EnglandXReader Why Shouldn't I?
by 13thverse13thchapter
Summary: Depressed, suicidal reader-san is feeling low and resenting her rejection when she has a chance encounter with a classmate who might be able to help.
1. EnglandXReader Why Shouldn't I?

You slowly paced along the tile floors of the store, parents ignoring you as always. They bounded down aisles like children, leaving you to walk, forgotten, several paces behind. It wasn't your fault that you acted much older than you actually were, you just functioned differently. Or at least that's what you told yourself when you found yourself friendless and disconnected from your family. People from your classes were immature and self-absorbed; they teased you for being so quiet and cold. In the festering wounds of your own self-pity, a hate for the people who had harmed you had grown. When your mind went into that infinite death-spiral people call "depression", your family and old friends called you a freak. Now you had learned that being alone was far better than whatever people could give you. Subconsciously, you found yourself talking to no one in particular just to get feelings and thoughts out of your head, creating the appearance of having finally lost it. But you just didn't care anymore, pushing people out had become easier and easier.

"Oi! _!" a voice called bringing you back from thought. This was not the voice of a family member but that of another familiar face. You knew immediately who it was without turning around; it was Arthur whom you knew from school. "_! Is that you?" he called again. Sighing, you turned to face the blonde-haired boy yelling at you.

"Hullo Arthur," you mumbled, walking to meet him. He grinned, not something normal for him,

"I thought that was you, are you here alone?" You look around for your family but they seem to have disappeared,

"I was here with my family but they seem to have forgotten me again…" Arthur looks at you sympathetically,

"I'm sorry…"

"I don't need your pity Mr.-student-council-president. Everyone else already fakes it…"

"I wasn't faking it," Arthur replies grumpily, "I saw you and came to ask if you would care to have some dinner and wander around outside with me." Your eyes widened, the only sign you cared at all,

"O-oh! I'm sorry! Yes that would be nice; I don't think my parents would mind…" Arthur nodded kindly,

"Even if they don't care, I will. Where would you like to eat?"

"Umm…" you stuttered, you had issues with food. "Err y-you see, I uh, get sick when I eat and err…"

"No need love, I get it. Can you drink?" he said walking out of the store.

"Not legally," you mumbled sarcastically. He rolled his eyes,

"I meant soda and coffee and normal things." You paused,

"Yes, I prefer tea though…"

"You're in luck then," your new, handsome blonde-haired companion said holding open the door to a little tea shop. The shelves of the warm little store were lined with thick old books and exotic brands of tea. Arthur ordered two cups of earl grey and a scone. The two of you quietly sipped your drinks and walked down the busy winter sidewalks.

"Why are you talking to me?" you asked, it wasn't often anyone spoke to an undesirable. Arthur looked at you quizzically,

"Why wouldn't I? You're a pretty, quiet girl from my classes, we're both ap and honors students." You shrugged,

"I'm kind of an outcast, I'm suicidal, and I don't 'play well with others'. People tend to avoid anyone with that image." Arthur slouched to match your body-language,

"It makes you all the more intriguing." You sighed and looked up at the drizzly sky, the sunset was casting a faded crimson glare on the cloudy roof. Your companion's emerald eyes studied your figure carefully,

"What's going on behind that cold expression? Even your eyes refuse to betray your secrets." The faint traces of what could once be called a smile touched your lips,

"You forced some emotion out of me, congratulations. I'm just- ehh I don't know, spiraling again I suppose…" Arthur cocked his head to one side,

"Spiraling? Do you need me to slap you?" The echo of emotion caught you again; "happiness" was so foreign that laughing would probably kill you,

"No, I just need to talk."

"Well that's what you're doing right now." You thought for a moment,

"Different kind of talking, coping talking. I usually just talk to the air. So, I won't bore you with my stupid issues." Arthur stopped dead, placed his drink on a convenient ledge, and roughly grabbed your shoulders, "Your issues are not stupid. You probably have it worst of any of us at school. Even if you have nothing to talk about I'll listen." You turned away,

"Thank you… Really, no one was ever been this kind to the schizo, dead girl…" Then you felt an arm rest on your shoulders and pull you close,

"So what is bothering you?" You looked up into the bright green orbs that stared down at you curiously.

"Nothing," you mumble, hoping for just a second that he was as stupid as the rest to believe that.

"Now love, do you really expect me to believe that?" he asks.

"No," you reply, sounding like a disobedient child being told off.

"Well start by telling me when this began, your-"

"Sulky, childish response to things not going my way? You sound like a shrink." Arthur sighed,

"I suppose so, I just want to help you. Since you usually talk to the air, pretend I'm not here." You rolled your eyes,

"I'll try, I just feel unappreciated, like no one wants me. If just one person cared I would be happy, right now I just feel misunderstood. People stopped noticing I was there when I got quiet and they talked 'behind my back'. When other people who like to care for brownie points asked what was wrong with me, people assumed that I was depressed and pissed. Then my family keeps giving me all this crap about why I'm not good enough or why I HAVE to do well in school otherwise my life is ruined, the same way I ruined theirs. I guess it was when 'no friends' became my excuse that I stopped eating. I would starve myself before eating anything and even then I felt sick, when 'happy-o's' started coming back at me I stopped eating all together. Now the pressure, and being crazy and friendless has caught up with me and my will to live is simply 'it only gets worse before it gets better' but I just come across as weak and whiny…" You could already feel tears bubbling up in your eyes, rubbing them away; you take a sip of tea. "I-I'm sorry- *hic*," tears were streaming down your face now. Arthur calmly embraced you,

"Shhh… shhh… It's alright…" You sobbed into his coat, attempting to muffle the pathetic noise. A gentle hand ran through your hair, this felt so wrong but you did nothing.

"_!" You heard your parents call from down the street. They tore you away from Arthur, "Where were you? Who is this? We're going home now!" You looked back sadly at Arthur, waving as you were dragged away.


	2. EnglandXReader Why Shouldn't I? Ch 2

Yesterday's drizzly skies had burst overnight, now the slick roads were being frosted with fast melting snowflakes. You slogged through ankle-deep puddles, soaking your canvas shoes in the process. Your destination, the grocery store, was still a block away so you began to walk double-time.

"You'll catch your death walking out here you know," a warm teasing voice called. Arthur stood in front of one of the houses along the windy stretch of road.

"Maybe I welcome death…" you mumbled, not looking up.

"Now love, don't be like that," he replies, walking out to meet you, "I take it you're going somewhere?" he says falling in stride with you. You nod and point to the grocery store. "Why on earth would you be sent out in the snow?" You sighed and wiped your mouth,

"I fought with my parents earlier so they didn't care if I froze on my way to buy things for dinner…" Arthur reached out for your hand seeing that your sweater didn't have pockets,

"Bloody hell love! Don't you have a pair of mittens or something?" Despite your lack of body heat, Arthur's grip on your hand remained strong. You shook your head from side to side in reply, clinging to the blonde-haired boy beside you. "You're cold as death," he mused as the wind pressed you forward, fiercely whipping your clothes about. The two of you finally approached the huge automatic doors of the supermarket, the heating vent ushering you inside with one incredibly warm gust of air. Arthur released you into the spacious entrance so you could lead. You turned to look at him,

"This way." He hooked his arm around yours, but not in the childish, folk-dance way people at school did, a gentlemanly guiding way. Gathering cheap store brand food from various aisles, you make your way through the store as quickly as possible. "Thanks god we're out of there…" you sigh, exiting the store, "all that food was making me sick." Arthur strokes your head comfortingly, words not needed to convey his sympathy. When at last you made the last push through the strong winds to your doorstep, you turned to your emerald eyed companion. "I wish you didn't have to go," you mumbled letting go of Arthur's hand. He smiled reassuringly,

"I'll see you again love, hand on for me." You watched him walk away before opening the door to your house.

The rest of the day slipped by at a painfully slow rate, your mind clouded with the critical words of hate and impatience. You truly were selfish, the words so long repeated to your face were beginning to sink in. You couldn't be bothered to obey your parents, try to understand the idiot population of the world, or even talk to Arthur about his life. That creeping sensation came over you again, leaving you empty and unwanted, even by yourself. Forcing your way through a quiet, tense dinner, you excused yourself upstairs not long after. You carefully lit some candles in your room, the flames dulled your pain at times like this. Outside, the storm raged on, although you could have sworn you heard a knock at your window. There it was again, a loud tapping on the glass, you peered out the window and were met with a strange sight. Arthur stood, soaking wet, outside your window, waiting to be allowed in. Still somewhat shocked, you threw your window open and helped the dripping wet man inside.

"So this is what you meant," you sigh throwing your arms around his neck. He shook his head attempting to dry himself off,

"Could I get some help with my cloak?" Glancing down at the thick green cloak, frozen with rainwater, you quickly took that and his coat off to be dried. You soon returned from the laundry room, and, now donning sleepwear, threw Arthur one of your father's clean t-shirts. "I must say, I like your father's style, I thought I was the only one with a Led Zeppelin shirt," he commented with a smirk. You shrugged and blushed as you noticed that your clothing at this point consisted of some nearly indecent shorts and an oversized flannel shirt. Arthur chuckled at your embarrassment and stripped himself of his wet trousers so he wore only your father's t-shirt and his own pair of union-jack boxers. If possible, you blushed brighter but said nothing, the feeling of blood in your cheeks disorienting. You parents screeched something about turning out your light soon and Arthur looked at you worriedly. You looked back up as reassuringly as you could,

"It's nothing to worry about; they really don't care unless I disobey them. Even when I rant our loud to no one in particular."

"It's nice to know I'm not the only crazy one." You tilted your head curiously.

"When you mentioned that people were not often nice to the schizo kid, I-I suppose I got the reverse side of your story…" he replied quietly. You gently rested your arms on his shoulders, eyes wide with questions and a longing to comfort someone so similar to you. Arthur reached up and held your arms there for a moment, eyes just as wide, brimming with tears. "It's hard explaining that I'm not normal like they thought and that I was talking to someone even though I was in an empty room. They don't understand, and you do. I just want to help you because I know what pain is." You watched as blankly as always as the tears spill over and Arthur's face contorts in a way that only someone in pains could. He hugs you tightly, shaking slightly every time he suppressed a sob. You held him in an equally tight grip, as if that would stitch back together that broken part of him. The two of you just held each other and cried, cried for your own hurts and for each other's wounds, cried for the world and the people in it, you cried until you had nothing left. Then you broke apart and laughed, laughed for all the things you couldn't change and the stupid people who didn't get it, and you laughed for two crazy people finding love in a fault not of their own. When at last you came back to reality you found that emotion, no matter how useless, was what would keep you alive. And you had never felt so alive, Arthur lay across from you on your cheap old mattress, hair tousled, cheeks red, and eyes watery.

"People don't cry because they're weak, they cry because they've been strong for far too long," you say weakly, smiling just a bit.

"Just as laughing feels the best when you have nothing to laugh about," he replies wisely. He grins and pulls you over to him, hugging you tightly once more. "Will you always hug me and listen to me rant and cry?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

Over the next few months things stayed the same as always. Everything still felt hopeless and dark. Only each other kept _ and Arthur alive. They would rush out of their classes and fall into each other's arms. Then they would walk home and talk and cry, and laugh, always there for each other.


End file.
